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Jane Porter had been the first of those in the lifeboatto awaken the morning after the wreck of the LADY ALICE.The other members of the party were asleep upon the thwartsor huddled in cramped positions in the bottom of the boat.

When the girl realized that they had become separatedfrom the other boats she was filled with alarm. The senseof utter loneliness and helplessness which the vast expanseof deserted ocean aroused in her was so depressing that,from the first, contemplation of the future held not theslightest ray of promise for her. She was confident thatthey were lost--lost beyond possibility of succor.

Presently Clayton awoke. It was several minutes before hecould gather his senses sufficiently to realize where he was,or recall the disaster of the previous night. Finally hisbewildered eyes fell upon the girl.

"Jane!" he cried. "Thank God that we are together!"

"Look," said the girl dully, indicating the horizon with anapathetic gesture. "We are all alone."

Clayton scanned the water in every direction.

"Where can they be?" he cried. "They cannot have gone down,for there has been no sea, and they were afloat after theyacht sank--I saw them all."

He awoke the other members of the party, and explained their plight.

"It is just as well that the boats are scattered, sir," saidone of the sailors. "They are all provisioned, so that theydo not need each other on that score, and should a stormblow up they could be of no service to one another even ifthey were together, but scattered about the ocean there is amuch better chance that one at least will be picked up, andthen a search will be at once started for the others.Were we together there would be but one chance of rescue,where now there may be four."

They saw the wisdom of his philosophy, and were cheeredby it, but their joy was short-lived, for when it wasdecided that they should row steadily toward the east andthe continent, it was discovered that the sailors who hadbeen at the only two oars with which the boat had beenprovided had fallen asleep at their work, and allowed bothto slip into the sea, nor were they in sight anywhere uponthe water.

During the angry words and recriminations which followedthe sailors nearly came to blows, but Clayton succeeded inquieting them; though a moment later Monsieur Thuran almostprecipitated another row by making a nasty remark about thestupidity of all Englishmen, and especially English sailors.

"Come, come, mates," spoke up one of the men, Tompkins,who had taken no part in the altercation, "shootin'off our bloomin' mugs won't get us nothin'. As Spider 'eresaid afore, we'll all bloody well be picked up, anyway, sez'e, so wot's the use o' squabblin'? Let's eat, sez I."

"That's not a bad idea," said Monsieur Thuran, and then,turning to the third sailor, Wilson, he said: "Pass one ofthose tins aft, my good man."

"Fetch it yerself," retorted Wilson sullenly. "I ain't a-takin'no orders from no--furriner--you ain't captain o' this ship yet."

The result was that Clayton himself had to get the tin,and then another angry altercation ensued when one of thesailors accused Clayton and Monsieur Thuran of conspiring tocontrol the provisions so that they could have the lion's share.

"Some one should take command of this boat," spoke up Jane Porter,thoroughly disgusted with the disgraceful wrangling that hadmarked the very opening of a forced companionship that mightlast for many days. "It is terrible enough to be alonein a frail boat on the Atlantic, without having the addedmisery and danger of constant bickering and brawling amongthe members of our party. You men should elect a leader,and then abide by his decisions in all matters. There isgreater need for strict discipline here than there isupon a well-ordered ship."

She had hoped before she voiced her sentiments that itwould not be necessary for her to enter into the transactionat all, for she believed that Clayton was amply able to copewith every emergency, but she had to admit that so far atleast he had shown no greater promise of successfully handlingthe situation than any of the others, though he had at leastrefrained from adding in any way to the unpleasantness, evengoing so far as to give up the tin to the sailors when theyobjected to its being opened by him.

The girl's words temporarily quieted the men, and finally itwas decided that the two kegs of water and the four tins offood should be divided into two parts, one-half going forwardto the three sailors to do with as they saw best, and thebalance aft to the three passengers.

Thus was the little company divided into two camps, andwhen the provisions had been apportioned each immediatelyset to work to open and distribute food and water. The sailorswere the first to get one of the tins of "food" open, and theircurses of rage and disappointment caused Clayton to askwhat the trouble might be.

"Trouble!" shrieked Spider. "Trouble! It's worse thantrouble--it's death! This --- tin is full of coal oil!"

Hastily now Clayton and Monsieur Thuran tore open one oftheirs, only to learn the hideous truth that it also contained,not food, but coal oil. One after another the four tins onboard were opened. And as the contents of each becameknown howls of anger announced the grim truth--there wasnot an ounce of food upon the boat.

"Well, thank Gawd it wasn't the water," cried Thompkins."It's easier to get along without food than it is without water.We can eat our shoes if worse comes to worst, but wecouldn't drink 'em."

As he spoke Wilson had been boring a hole in one of the waterkegs, and as Spider held a tin cup he tilted the keg to poura draft of the precious fluid. A thin stream of blackish,dry particles filtered slowly through the tiny aperture intothe bottom of the cup. With a groan Wilson dropped the keg, andsat staring at the dry stuff in the cup, speechless with horror.

"The kegs are filled with gunpowder," said Spider, in a low tone,turning to those aft. And so it proved when the last had been opened.

"Coal oil and gunpowder!" cried Monsieur Thuran."SAPRISTI! What a diet for shipwrecked mariners!"

With the full knowledge that there was neither food norwater on board, the pangs of hunger and thirst becameimmediately aggravated, and so on the first day of their tragicadventure real suffering commenced in grim earnest, and thefull horrors of shipwreck were upon them.

As the days passed conditions became horrible. Aching eyesscanned the horizon day and night until the weakand weary watchers would sink exhausted to the bottom ofthe boat, and there wrest in dream-disturbed slumber amoment's respite from the horrors of the waking reality.

The sailors, goaded by the remorseless pangs of hunger,had eaten their leather belts, their shoes, the sweatbandsfrom their caps, although both Clayton and MonsieurThuran had done their best to convince them that thesewould only add to the suffering they were enduring.

Weak and hopeless, the entire party lay beneath the pitilesstropic sun, with parched lips and swollen tongues, waiting forthe death they were beginning to crave. The intense sufferingof the first few days had become deadened for the threepassengers who had eaten nothing, but the agony of thesailors was pitiful, as their weak and impoverished stomachsattempted to cope with the bits of leather with which theyhad filled them. Tompkins was the first to succumb. Just aweek from the day the LADY ALICE went down the sailor diedhorribly in frightful convulsions.

For hours his contorted and hideous features lay grinningback at those in the stern of the little boat, until JanePorter could endure the sight no longer."Can you not drop his body overboard, William?" she asked.

Clayton rose and staggered toward the corpse. The tworemaining sailors eyed him with a strange, baleful light intheir sunken orbs. Futilely the Englishman tried to lift thecorpse over the side of the boat, but his strength was notequal to the task.

"Lend me a hand here, please," he said to Wilson, who laynearest him.

"Wot do you want to throw 'im over for?" questioned thesailor, in a querulous voice.

"We've got to before we're too weak to do it," replied Clayton."He'd be awful by tomorrow, after a day under that broiling sun."

"Better leave well enough alone," grumbled Wilson."We may need him before tomorrow."

Slowly the meaning of the man's words percolated intoClayton's understanding. At last he realized the fellow'sreason for objecting to the disposal of the dead man.

"God!" whispered Clayton, in a horrified tone. "You don't mean--"

"W'y not?" growled Wilson. "Ain't we gotta live? He's dead,"he added, jerking his thumb in the direction of the corpse."He won't care."

"Come here, Thuran," said Clayton, turning toward the Russian."We'll have something worse than death aboard us if we don'tget rid of this body before dark."

Wilson staggered up menacingly to prevent the contemplated act,but when his comrade, Spider, took sides with Clayton andMonsieur Thuran he gave up, and sat eying the corpsehungrily as the three men, by combining their efforts,succeeded in rolling it overboard.

All the balance of the day Wilson sat glaring at Clayton,in his eyes the gleam of insanity. Toward evening, as thesun was sinking into the sea, he commenced to chuckle andmumble to himself, but his eyes never left Clayton.

After it became quite dark Clayton could still feel those terribleeyes upon him. He dared not sleep, and yet so exhaustedwas he that it was a constant fight to retain consciousness.After what seemed an eternity of suffering his head droppedupon a thwart, and he slept. How long he was unconscioushe did not know--he was awakened by a shuffling noise quiteclose to him. The moon had risen, and as he opened hisstartled eyes he saw Wilson creeping stealthily toward him,his mouth open and his swollen tongue hanging out.

The slight noise had awakened Jane Porter at the same time,and as she saw the hideous tableau she gave a shrill cryof alarm, and at the same instant the sailor lurched forwardand fell upon Clayton. Like a wild beast his teeth soughtthe throat of his intended prey, but Clayton, weak though hewas, still found sufficient strength to hold the maniac'smouth from him.

At Jane Porter's scream Monsieur Thuran and Spider awoke.On seeing the cause of her alarm, both men crawled toClayton's rescue, and between the three of them were ableto subdue Wilson and hurl him to the bottom of the boat.For a few minutes he lay there chattering and laughing, and then,with an awful scream, and before any of his companionscould prevent, he staggered to his feet and leaped overboard.

The reaction from the terrific strain of excitement left theweak survivors trembling and prostrated. Spider broke downand wept; Jane Porter prayed; Clayton swore softly to himself;Monsieur Thuran sat with his head in his hands, thinking.The result of his cogitation developed the following morningin a proposition he made to Spider and Clayton.

"Gentlemen," said Monsieur Thuran, "you see the fate thatawaits us all unless we are picked up within a day or two.That there is little hope of that is evidenced by the factthat during all the days we have drifted we have seen nosail, nor the faintest smudge of smoke upon the horizon.

"There might be a chance if we had food, but without foodthere is none. There remains for us, then, but one of twoalternatives, and we must choose at once. Either we mustall die together within a few days, or one must be sacrificedthat the others may live. Do you quite clearly grasp my meaning?"

Jane Porter, who had overheard, was horrified. If theproposition had come from the poor, ignorant sailor, shemight possibly have not been so surprised; but that it shouldcome from one who posed as a man of culture and refinement,from a gentleman, she could scarcely credit.

"It is better that we die together, then," said Clayton.

"That is for the majority to decide," replied Monsieur Thuran."As only one of us three will be the object of sacrifice,we shall decide. Miss Porter is not interested,since she will be in no danger."

"How shall we know who is to be first?" asked Spider.

"It may be fairly fixed by lot," replied Monsieur Thuran."I have a number of franc pieces in my pocket. We canchoose a certain date from among them--the one to draw thisdate first from beneath a piece of cloth will be the first."

"I shall have nothing to do with any such diabolical plan,"muttered Clayton; "even yet land may be sighted or a shipappear--in time."

"You will do as the majority decide, or you will be `thefirst' without the formality of drawing lots," said MonsieurThuran threateningly. "Come, let us vote on the plan; Ifor one am in favor of it. How about you, Spider?""And I," replied the sailor.

"It is the will of the majority," announced MonsieurThuran, "and now let us lose no time in drawing lots.It is as fair for one as for another. That three maylive, one of us must die perhaps a few hours soonerthan otherwise."

Then he began his preparation for the lottery of death,while Jane Porter sat wide-eyed and horrified at thought ofthe thing that she was about to witness. Monsieur Thuranspread his coat upon the bottom of the boat, and then from ahandful of money he selected six franc pieces. The other twomen bent close above him as he inspected them. Finally hehanded them all to Clayton.

"Look at them carefully," he said. "The oldest date iseighteen-seventy-five, and there is only one of that year."

Clayton and the sailor inspected each coin. To them thereseemed not the slightest difference that could be detectedother than the dates. They were quite satisfied. Had theyknown that Monsieur Thuran's past experience as a cardsharp had trained his sense of touch to so fine a point thathe could almost differentiate between cards by the mere feelof them, they would scarcely have felt that the plan was soentirely fair. The 1875 piece was a hair thinner than theother coins, but neither Clayton nor Spider could havedetected it without the aid of a micrometer.

"In what order shall we draw?" asked Monsieur Thuran,knowing from past experience that the majority of menalways prefer last chance in a lottery where the single prizeis some distasteful thing--there is always the chance and thehope that another will draw it first. Monsieur Thuran, forreasons of his own, preferred to draw first if the drawingshould happen to require a second adventure beneath the coat.

And so when Spider elected to draw last he graciouslyoffered to take the first chance himself. His hand was underthe coat for but a moment, yet those quick, deft fingers hadfelt of each coin, and found and discarded the fatal piece.When he brought forth his hand it contained an 1888 franc piece.Then Clayton drew. Jane Porter leaned forward with a tenseand horrified expression on her face as the hand of the manshe was to marry groped about beneath the coat. Presently hewithdrew it, a franc piece lying in the palm. For an instanthe dared not look, but Monsieur Thuran, who had leanednearer to see the date, exclaimed that he was safe.

Jane Porter sank weak and trembling against the side ofthe boat. She felt sick and dizzy. And now, if Spidershould not draw the 1875 piece she must endure the wholehorrid thing again.

The sailor already had his hand beneath the coat. Great beadsof sweat were standing upon his brow. He trembled as thoughwith a fit of ague. Aloud he cursed himself for havingtaken the last draw, for now his chances for escape werebut three to one, whereas Monsieur Thuran's had been five toone, and Clayton's four to one.

The Russian was very patient, and did not hurry the man,for he knew that he himself was quite safe whether the 1875piece came out this time or not. When the sailor withdrewhis hand and looked at the piece of money within, hedropped fainting to the bottom of the boat. Both Claytonand Monsieur Thuran hastened weakly to examine the coin,which had rolled from the man's hand and lay beside him.It was not dated 1875. The reaction from the state of fear hehad been in had overcome Spider quite as effectually asthough he had drawn the fated piece.

But now the whole proceeding must be gone through again.Once more the Russian drew forth a harmless coin. JanePorter closed her eyes as Clayton reached beneath the coat.Spider bent, wide-eyed, toward the hand that was to decidehis fate, for whatever luck was Clayton's on this last draw,the opposite would be Spider's.Then William Cecil Clayton, Lord Greystoke, removed his handfrom beneath the coat, and with a coin tight pressed withinhis palm where none might see it, he looked at Jane Porter.He did not dare open his hand.

"Quick!" hissed Spider. "My Gawd, let's see it."

Clayton opened his fingers. Spider was the first to seethe date, and ere any knew what his intention was he raisedhimself to his feet, and lunged over the side of the boat,to disappear forever into the green depths beneath--the coinhad not been the 1875 piece.

The strain had exhausted those who remained to such anextent that they lay half unconscious for the balance of theday, nor was the subject referred to again for several days.Horrible days of increasing weakness and hopelessness.At length Monsieur Thuran crawled to where Clayton lay.

"We must draw once more before we are too weak even to eat,"he whispered.

Clayton was in such a state that he was scarcely master ofhis own will. Jane Porter had not spoken for three days.He knew that she was dying. Horrible as the thought was,he hoped that the sacrifice of either Thuran or himself mightbe the means of giving her renewed strength, and so heimmediately agreed to the Russian's proposal.

They drew under the same plan as before, but therecould be but one result--Clayton drew the 1875 piece.

"When shall it be?" he asked Thuran.

The Russian had already drawn a pocketknife from his trousers,and was weakly attempting to open it.

"Now," he muttered, and his greedy eyes gloated upon the Englishman.

"Can't you wait until dark?" asked Clayton. "Miss Portermust not see this thing done. We were to have been married,you know."

A look of disappointment came over Monsieur Thuran's face.

"Very well," he replied hesitatingly. "It will not be longuntil night. I have waited for many days--I can wait a fewhours longer."

"Thank you, my friend," murmured Clayton. "Now I shall goto her side and remain with her until it is time. I wouldlike to have an hour or two with her before I die."

When Clayton reached the girl's side she was unconscious--he knew that she was dying, and he was glad that sheshould not have to see or know the awful tragedy that wasshortly to be enacted. He took her hand and raised it to hiscracked and swollen lips. For a long time he lay caressing theemaciated, clawlike thing that had once been the beautiful,shapely white hand of the young Baltimore belle.

It was quite dark before he knew it, but he was recalledto himself by a voice out of the night. It was the Russiancalling him to his doom.

"I am coming, Monsieur Thuran," he hastened to reply.

Thrice he attempted to turn himself upon his hands andknees, that he might crawl back to his death, but in thefew hours that he had lain there he had become tooweak to return to Thuran's side.

"You will have to come to me, monsieur," he called weakly."I have not sufficient strength to gain my hands and knees."

"SAPRISTI!" muttered Monsieur Thuran. "You are attemptingto cheat me out of my winnings."

Clayton heard the man shuffling about in the bottom ofthe boat. Finally there was a despairing groan. "I cannotcrawl," he heard the Russian wail. "It is too late. You havetricked me, you dirty English dog."

"I have not tricked you, monsieur," replied Clayton."I have done my best to rise, but I shall try again,and if you will try possibly each of us can crawl halfway,and then you shall have your `winnings.'"

Again Clayton exerted his remaining strength to the utmost,and he heard Thuran apparently doing the same. Nearly an hourlater the Englishman succeeded in raising himself to hishands and knees, but at the first forward movementhe pitched upon his face.

A moment later he heard an exclamation of relief fromMonsieur Thuran.

"I am coming," whispered the Russian.

Again Clayton essayed to stagger on to meet his fate, butonce more he pitched headlong to the boat's bottom, nor,try as he would, could he again rise. His last effort causedhim to roll over on his back, and there he lay looking up atthe stars, while behind him, coming ever nearer and nearer,he could hear the laborious shuffling, and the stertorousbreathing of the Russian.

It seemed that he must have lain thus an hour waiting for thething to crawl out of the dark and end his misery. It was quiteclose now, but there were longer and longer pauses betweenits efforts to advance, and each forward movement seemedto the waiting Englishman to be almost imperceptible.

Finally he knew that Thuran was quite close beside him.He heard a cackling laugh, something touched his face, andhe lost consciousness.